The Nobel decision was a brave defence of the European project

The Peace Prize was a reminder that the EU has been a force for good and remains a bulwark against further suffering.

The committee responsible for awarding the Nobel Peace Prize is a close-knit Norwegian elite, and we will probably never know exactly how it arrived at its decision to award the 2012 prize to the European Union. But we can guess.

At the heart of the process must have been Thorbjorn Jagland, the current secretary general of the Council of Europe and a former Norwegian prime minister. He has been chairman of the Nobel Peace Prize committee since 2009, with considerable sway over its deliberations. In 1990 he wrote a book called My European Dream, which argued for Norway’s accession to the EU, and in 2008 he specifically advocated that the EU should win the Nobel Peace Prize. I think we can safely assume that Jagland was instrumental in making this happen.

Some may be scratching their heads at the apparent absurdity of the decision and, admittedly, it does seem a bit odd. Why award the prize this year of all years? With each wave of the euro crisis, southern Europeans’ livelihoods hang in the balance. The social contract in Greece and Spain has all but disintegrated, principally owing to failures at the EU elite level. This has left space for dangerous and, in some cases, violent populist forces to emerge. Throughout the crisis, two of the EU’s three main institutions – the Parliament and the Commission – have been sidelined, making a mockery of the European project. And public trust in the EU is hitting new lows.

But perhaps these are precisely the reasons why this decision was made, and why it has the touch of genius about it. Jagland cares about the European project, and he is using his unique position to make a brave defence of it. Amidst all the recent bad news, it is easy to forget how the EU has been a force for good in the past and remains a bulwark against further suffering in the future. The Nobel Peace Prize could be seen as partly a lifetime achievement award and partly a confidence-boosting recognition of its potential.

It must have taken an extraordinary amount of effort to persuade the conservative members of the committee to go with this choice. Perhaps it should be seen as a triumph and a call to arms for those committed to increased European integration and co-operation. Earlier this year, the New Statesman's political editor Rafael Behr wrote that those in Britain who are broadly Europhile need to start exercising the arguments in favour. Since then, a referendum on Britain’s membership has become even more likely. Jagland has attempted to do what few politicians in Europe – let alone sceptical Britain – have yet dared, which is to make the case for renewed faith in the European project. Perhaps it is time for others to follow suit.

William Brett is a PhD candidate at UCL and a research assistant at the Centre for Financial Analysis & Policy.

EU Commission President Jose Manuel Barroso speaks after the EU was awarded the 2012 Nobel Peace Prize. Photograph: Getty Images.
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If there’s no booze or naked women, what’s the point of being a footballer?

Peter Crouch came out with one of the wittiest football lines. When asked what he thought he would have been but for football, he replied: “A virgin.”

At a professional league ground near you, the following conversation will be taking place. After an excellent morning training session, in which the players all worked hard, and didn’t wind up the assistant coach they all hate, or cut the crotch out of the new trousers belonging to the reserve goalie, the captain or some senior player will go into the manager’s office.

“Hi, gaffer. Just thought I’d let you know that we’ve booked the Salvation Hall. They’ll leave the table-tennis tables in place, so we’ll probably have a few games, as it’s the players’ Christmas party, OK?”

“FECKING CHRISTMAS PARTY!? I TOLD YOU NO CHRISTMAS PARTIES THIS YEAR. NOT AFTER LAST YEAR. GERROUT . . .”

So the captain has to cancel the booking – which was actually at the Salvation Go Go Gentlemen’s Club on the high street, plus the Saucy Sporty Strippers, who specialise in naked table tennis.

One of the attractions for youths, when they dream of being a footballer or a pop star, is not just imagining themselves number one in the Prem or number one in the hit parade, but all the girls who’ll be clambering for them. Young, thrusting politicians have similar fantasies. Alas, it doesn’t always work out.

Today, we have all these foreign managers and foreign players coming here, not pinching our women (they’re too busy for that), but bringing foreign customs about diet and drink and no sex at half-time. Rotters, ruining the simple pleasures of our brave British lads which they’ve enjoyed for over a century.

The tabloids recently went all pious when poor old Wayne Rooney was seen standing around drinking till the early hours at the England team hotel after their win over Scotland. He’d apparently been invited to a wedding that happened to be going on there. What I can’t understand is: why join a wedding party for total strangers? Nothing more boring than someone else’s wedding. Why didn’t he stay in the bar and get smashed?

Even odder was the behaviour of two other England stars, Adam Lallana and Jordan Henderson. They made a 220-mile round trip from their hotel in Hertfordshire to visit a strip club, For Your Eyes Only, in Bournemouth. Bournemouth! Don’t they have naked women in Herts? I thought one of the points of having all these millions – and a vast office staff employed by your agent – is that anything you want gets fixed for you. Why couldn’t dancing girls have been shuttled into another hotel down the road? Or even to the lads’ own hotel, dressed as French maids?

In the years when I travelled with the Spurs team, it was quite common in provincial towns, after a Saturday game, for players to pick up girls at a local club and share them out.

Like top pop stars, top clubs have fixers who can sort out most problems, and pleasures, as well as smart solicitors and willing police superintendents to clear up the mess afterwards.

The England players had a night off, so they weren’t breaking any rules, even though they were going to play Spain 48 hours later. It sounds like off-the-cuff, spontaneous, home-made fun. In Wayne’s case, he probably thought he was doing good, being approachable, as England captain.

Quite why the other two went to Bournemouth was eventually revealed by one of the tabloids. It is Lallana’s home town. He obviously said to Jordan Henderson, “Hey Hendo, I know a cool club. They always look after me. Quick, jump into my Bentley . . .”

They spent only two hours at the club. Henderson drank water. Lallana had a beer. Don’t call that much of a night out.

In the days of Jimmy Greaves, Tony Adams, Roy Keane, or Gazza in his pomp, they’d have been paralytic. It was common for players to arrive for training still drunk, not having been to bed.

Peter Crouch, the former England player, 6ft 7in, now on the fringes at Stoke, came out with one of the wittiest football lines. When asked what he thought he would have been but for football, he replied: “A virgin.”

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 01 December 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Age of outrage